


wondering where i am, lost without you

by gilligankane



Series: you can tell everybody this is your song [4]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 80's Music, F/F, Gen, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-04 03:04:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12160239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: “I’m sorry,” Nicole breathes out. “Christmas is just... really far away.”“I know,” Waverly says softly. “But, like, it’s only… 3 months from now. I’ll be home way quick and I’m gonna spend all Christmas break with you, okay?”“We got through academy training,” Nicole says, more to remind herself than Waverly.“For sure,” Waverly agrees. “We can get through to Christmas.”





	1. being apart ain't easy on this love affair

**Author's Note:**

> Down the rabbit hole we go, into 80's WayHaught Mixtape 'verse.
> 
> This takes place during Waverly's freshman year of college, 1990-1991. 
> 
> This will be posted in 2 parts; this is Side A. Side B will be posted next Friday.
> 
> I know that "Faithfully" was used for the main fic, _it's like i wrote every note with my own fingers_ , but we couldn't resist using it to explore some long distance relationship-WayHaught

**“Faithfully” Journey, 1983**  
_ And being apart ain’t easy on this love affair. Two strangers learn to fall in love again. I get the joy of rediscovering you. Oh, girl, you stand by me, I’m forever yours, faithfully. _

Nicole idly scribbles down radio codes in her notebook, trying to keep herself awake. Her cruiser is warm, and there’s a chill to the September air that threatens to sneak in through the windows of her 1986 Chevrolet Caprice. She taps the end of her pen against the steering wheel, trying to remember the code for an improperly parked vehicle, matching the beat  Mötley Crüe’s “Nona” playing. 

Her radio crackles and hisses before Nicole hears Linda over the wire.

“Hey, Haught?”

Nicole pulls at the walkie and holds it up to her mouth. “Go for Haught.” She frowns for a small second; she didn’t hear anything come through.

“I’m just wondering if you’re out of service yet or not. You haven’t called it in.”

Nicole frowns deeper and looks at her dashboard clock. “ _ Shit _ ,” she hisses, her fingers still down so her messages are transmitting. “I mean, crud.”

Linda laughs. “At ease, Haught. I’m guessin’ you forgot?”

“I’m going out now, Linda. I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

“Okay, Haught. You tell that girl of yours we’re real proud of her, would you?”

Nicole smiles, thinking of Waverly. “Will do.” She hangs the walkie back on the receiver, and puts the car in drive. Just a little ways down the road, she pulls over in front of Cal’s Corner and parks her cruiser in front of the payphone booth on the corner of the building. She fishes through the car’s ashtray, trying to find enough coins to make up 35¢ CAD. She finds enough pieces and stumbles out of her cruiser, leaving her hat on the driver’s seat.

The door to the phone booth creaks with age as she pulls it tightly shut behind her. The phone is cold on her ear but she drops her coins into the box and dials the number she knows by heart.

“You’re late,” Waverly says as soon as she picks up.

Nicole breathes out softly. “Sorry, baby. I lost track of time.”

“It’s okay. You called out of service?”

Nicole laughs. “Actually, Linda reminded me. Seemed to think it was funny. She said ‘hey,’ by the way.”

“That’s rad of her. Tell her I said ‘hey’ back.” There’s a pause and something rustling, like Waverly is shuffling her books around. Nicole grins to herself as she thinks about Waverly’s desk, covered in a dozen textbooks, notes on every page. Just like high school.

_ This isn’t high school anymore _ , she reminds herself.

“I will,” Nicole promises. She bites at her fingernail, pulling at a loose corner. 

It’s still new, these phone calls, and Nicole keeps tripping over the right thing to say. Waverly has only been gone since the end of August -  _ thirty-two days _ , Nicole tells herself - and even though they’ve been talking on the phone three days a week, every time feels like the first time. She hisses when the skin on her thumb peels under her teeth. They talked all the time when Nicole was at the academy, but there’s something different about Waverly being the one so far away, for so long. Nicole feels her whole body ache in a way that can only be soothed by Waverly’s voice and the music she can hear playing in Waverly’s dorm.

Today, it sounds like she’s listening to Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. Nicole makes a mental note to send Waverly a tape with  _ good _ music on it as soon as she gets off the night shift.

“So how was your day?” She winces even as she asks the question.

“Oh my god,” Waverly sighs before she launches into a story about her English professor, the one making them read  _ The Scarlet Letter.  _ “Like I didn’t read it in high school,” Waverly complains. 

There’s another drawn out pause. It stretches long enough for Nicole to hear the song on the other end switch, from “Good Vibrations” to “Wildside.”

“I-”

“How-” Waverly says at the same time.

Nicole feels her face flush. “You go first,” she offers.

“No, go ahead,” Waverly says.

Nicole curls her free hand into a fist, feeling her fingernails cut into the palm of her hand. They’ve never been good at talking, not really. Nicole knows she’s better with her actions than her words, and stuffed into a tiny phone booth on the corner in the middle of her shift with Waverly  _ only _ in her ear, she feels awkward, useless, and helpless.

“No, you go,” she tells Waverly. “ _ Please _ ,” she adds when Waverly hesitates. 

Nicole wants to hear everything. She wants Waverly to talk until it feels like they’re back in her Bonneville, pressed close on the bench seat. She wants Waverly to talk until it’s May and Nicole is driving back Purgatory with the windows down and the music loud and Waverly next to her, fresh off her first year of college.

“I was going to ask how your day was,” Waverly says quietly.

“Oh,” Nicole says, the word flat in her mouth. “Um, clutch?”

Waverly snorts. “ _ Clutch _ , huh?”

Nicole feels her face flush despite the cool air leaking in through the cracked weather seal of the folding door. “Uh, yeah.” She sighs heavily. “It was  _ so _ boring, Waves. Nedley has me on patrol, but…  _ nothing happens _ . The closest I’ve come to any kind of actual policing today was trying to figure out who took off with the mailbox in front of Champ’s apartment.”

“...Was it Wynonna?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Nicole says through her teeth. 

Waverly laughs and it’s the prettiest sound Nicole has heard since the last time they talked.

“Except that Mrs. Dray  _ swore _ she saw one of the York boys out on the lawn that same night, and so I spent half the morning following Kyle and Pete,” Nicole continues. “And then, Mrs. Dray calls the station back and says, maybe,  _ maybe _ , it mighta been raccoons she saw. She couldn’t really be sure.”

“You didn’t immediately assume it was Wynonna?” Waverly asks.

“There’s a  _ procedure _ , Waves. I can’t just assume things. I have to  _ investigate _ .” She huffs into the receiver.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Waverly says, barely getting the words out through her laugh. “You’re, like, a big time cop now.”

“Waves,” Nicole warns.

“The Five-O. The pigs. Big Barney Fife,” Waverly continues.

“ _ Waverly _ ,” Nicole hisses, pressing the palm of her free hand against her forehead.

Waverly laughs again, loud and bright in her ear. Nicole can feel her annoyance ebbing away almost as quickly as it came.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You sound like Wynonna,” Nicole grumbles.

Waverly gasps. “Bite me, Nicole Haught!”

Nicole leans one hand on the top of the housing, resting her forehead against the face of the machine. The metal is cold. “I miss you,” she says softly.

“ _ God _ ,” Waverly breathes into the receiver. “I miss you so much.”

Nicole worries her lower lip between her teeth before she lets it go with a  _ pop _ . “This is hard, right? You feel it, too?”

Waverly is quiet for a moment and Nicole feels the distance between them start to stretch with each passing heartbeat. She wants to take it back and shove the words back down her throat and hold onto them just a little longer, until it doesn’t feel like things are hard at all.

She’s about to yell  _ ‘pysch _ !’ and take it back, but Waverly beats her to it.

“Yeah,” Waverly whispers. “It is.”

Nicole feels her chest flood with all the words she’s only said to the steering wheel in her cruiser, threatening to push out of her mouth. She grinds her back teeth together tightly, as if it will stop them, and takes a deep breath. “It’s the  _ worst _ .”

“It’s not too long until Christmas. I’m counting the days,” Waverly says. “Like, I have a calendar and everything. And I’m putting a red ‘x’ on every day that passes. It’s really mondo.”

“Mondo?” Nicole repeats slowly.

“I don’t know,” Waverly says. “Eliza says it. She’s trying to teach me some things. Did you know she’s from-”

“California,” Nicole finishes. “Yeah, Waves. You’ve told me. Every time I call.”

Waverly is quiet again. “Sorry,” she mumbles eventually.

Nicole sighs and leans back against the side of the booth, stretching one leg out to toe above some graffiti there. ‘ _ Tommy is a DINK’ _ is says. Another one underneath the divider says  _ ‘Hotbox _ !’

“ _ I’m _ sorry,” Nicole breathes out. “Christmas is just...  _ really _ far away.”

“I know,” Waverly says softly. “But, like, it’s only… 3 months from now. I’ll be home way quick and I’m gonna spend all Christmas break with you, okay?”

“We got through academy training,” Nicole says, more to remind herself than Waverly.

“For sure,” Waverly agrees. “We can get through to Christmas.”

“I-”

“ _ Excuse me _ ,” a recorded voice interrupts. “ _ Your time is up _ .”

“ _ Shit _ ,” she hisses. “I don’t have anymore coins.  _ Shit _ . I love you,” Nicole tries to say over the recorded message.

_ “Please deposit five cents if you wish to continue, or your call will be disconnected. Thank you.” _

She thinks she hears Waverly shout it back.

She hangs the phone back on the hook and yanks open the folding door. The air outside is even colder now that she’s not in the booth and she hurries back to her cruiser, sliding into her seat and cranking the heat back up.

“Girls, Girls, Girls” isn’t playing anymore, so Nicole ejects the tape, turns it over, and slides it back in. “Five Years Dead” starts and the heavy rock settles into Nicole’s bones quicker than the hot air from the dashboard.  _ Waverly is right _ , she tries to tell herself. They  _ can _ get through to Christmas. They made it for six months while Nicole was in the academy and they can do the four months until Waverly comes home for break.

She picks up her radio and thumbs at the call button. “Hey, Linda. It’s Haught.”

“Go ‘head, Haught,” Linda drawls.

“I’m back in service,” she says.

Linda barely waits for her to stop speaking before she’s calling back. “Good timing, too. Seems like Mrs. Dray is callin’ after you. Something about an opossum. Can you stop by?”

Nicole sighs and presses the walkie hard enough to her forehead that she knows it’s leaving marks. Inhaling deeply, she presses the call button. “Sure, Linda. En route now.”

“10-4, Haught.”

The radio goes silent. Nicole puts it back on the receiver and puts the car in reverse, her headlights swinging across the empty road as she heads towards Mrs. Dray’s house.

“3 months,” she says to no one. “3 months is all. And you’ll talk to her in a few days.”

Nicole nods at her reflection in the rearview mirror and tries to act like she believes herself.  
  


-

Things are fine until Wynonna takes off on a cross-Canada trip with Doc and his biker gang.

“They’re not a biker gang,” Wynonna had said, rolling her eyes.

Nicole threw a pair of socks at the back of Wynonna’s head when she leaned over to pull a t-shirt out of her dresser. She pushed up onto her elbows and shook her head. “No. You can’t take  _ that _ REO Speedwagon shirt,” she says firmly.

Wynonna held the shirt against her chest, checking it out. She pulled at the black three-quarter sleeves. “Why not? I like this one.” She turned it around and shrugged at the large ‘84 written on the back.

“No,” Nicole says again. “That one stays.”

Wynonna rolled the shirt up and shoved it in the drawer. “Fine, fine. Don’t have a cow, spazz. It’s just a shirt.”

Nicole felt her cheeks burn. “Waverly likes that shirt.”

Wynonna scowled and looked down at her hands. “And you let me  _ touch _ it?”

Nicole shrugged and laid back down. “I don’t understand why you have to go out of town  _ now _ , though. With a biker gang.”

Wynonna sighed and flopped down on the bed next to Nicole, her elbow digging into Nicole’s ribs. Nicole grunted and twisted, shimmying until Wynonna wasn’t on top of her anymore.

“They’re  _ not _ a biker gang,” she tried to argue.

Nicole turned her head. “They’re called  _ The Banditos _ ,” she said dryly.

Wynonna snapped her mouth closed before opening it again, slower. “You have a point there,” she started.

“Can’t you stay?” Nicole asked. She hated the way it sounded like begging.

Wynonna sighed again. “It’s like, dude. This place is starting to  _ suffocate _ me. You feel me?” She didn’t wait for Nicole’s answer. “It’s just for a little while. I’ll be back before Waverly gets home.” She gave Nicole a soft smile and socked her in the arm gently. “Promise.”

Gus drops a basket in front of her, overflowing with fries. Somewhere under them, Nicole thinks she even sees a burger. Gus pulls the soda gun out from under the counter and fills a cold glass full of Orange Crush. 

“I didn’t order this,” Nicole starts.

“You’re holdin’ up my counter. I might as well feed you,” Gus says. She wipes at another spot on the counter with a dishcloth. “What’s got you down?”

“I’m-” Nicole stops when Gus looks up at her with narrowed eyes. “It’s quiet without them,” she admits.

Gus sighs. “Don’t I know it. First time I’ve ever had the house to myself.” She shrugs. “But they’ll be back.”

Nicole looks past Gus, to a picture taped onto the mirror above the register. It’s one of her and Wynonna and Waverly, all sitting on the steps of the McCreadys’ house. Curtis is behind them, his head thrown back and his mouth stretched wide in a smile. Gus follows her eyes and looks over her shoulder, finding the picture.

“You all went and grew up on me,” Gus says softly. “It doesn’t seem fair he isn’t here to see it.”

“He’d be real proud of them,” Nicole says just as quietly.

Gus turns and narrows her eyes. “He’d be real proud of you, too, Nicole Haught.”

Nicole goes to shrug off the compliment, but the way Gus’s eyes narrow even more have her nodding instead. She runs a hand through her hair self-consciously, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. 

The bell chimes as the door opens. Gus looks over Nicole’s shoulder and waves. Nicole picks at another french fry absently. As much as she loves The Patch, sometimes there’s a hollowness to it that makes her uncomfortable. Sometimes, the jukebox doesn’t sound the same, or the fries don’t taste right, or Jeremy, the new closer, doesn’t turn the neon lights off in the right order.

Waverly has been gone for a month and a half -  _ sixty-four days - _ and Wynonna has been gone for three weeks and Nicole is the only one left in Purgatory.

This is  _ not _ how she saw her life going. 

“Hey, Mrs. McCready!” someone says from behind her. Gus smiles brightly and waves a hand.

Nicole spins a little on her stool, half of a fry sticking out of her mouth.

Chrissy Nedley grins at her, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Her heels  _ clack _ against the tiled floor in time to “Round and Round” by Ratt, playing on the jukebox. “Oh, hey Nicole.” She clears her throat. “I mean, Officer Haught.”

Nicole feels her face flush. “Nicole is fine, Chrissy.”

Chrissy shrugs and climbs onto the stool next to her, their knees knocking. “Hey, I heard Wynonna, like, motored out of here with Doc and his friends down at the bike shop.”

Nicole sighs heavily, shoving another fry into her mouth. “Don’t remind me,” she grumbles.

Gus tucks her cleaning rag into her apron. “Let me check on that to-go order for you, Chrissy.”

“ _ Primo _ ,” Chrissy sighs. She spins her stool back and forth gently. “I’m meeting Daddy for lunch.”

Nicole nods. She manages to unearth her burger from the mountain of fries in her basket. “I’m off today.”

“Oh! You should totally come over. Later. Like, I know you’re probably mega busy and everything, but I’m not.” Chrissy’s cheeks flush. “Not that I’m, like, a noob, or anything. But you know,” she rushes on. “Waverly is away  _ learning _ things and Stephanie moved to Alberta with that Reggie guy and even Samantha Baker has, like, ditched us to work over at Pussy Willows and-”

Nicole puts her hand on top of Chrissy’s and presses down firmly. “Take a chill pill.”

Chrissy nods. “Right. So… What do you think?”

Nicole looks down at her basket of fries. There’s grease running down her fingers from the burger she’s holding. This was her big plans for the day; this, and listening to Survivor’s entire discography while she counted down the hours until it was time to call Waverly. 

Chrissy smiles hopefully.

“Fine,” Nicole breathes out. She fights her own smile. “But only because I feel bad for you.  _ Noob _ ,” she adds.

Chrissy swats at her shoulder. “Whatever. I’m done at the bank by 5. Come over after that, okay?”

Gus comes out of the kitchen, a knotted plastic bag in her hand. She drops it on the counter. “Here you go. Tell the Sheriff I’m going to start charging him for all the extra gravy he orders.”

Chrissy hands over a few bills and waves away the change. “He swears he’s on a liquid diet, just like Oprah.”

Nicole feels her sip of Orange Crush rush through her nose, burning as it drips onto the counter. She wipes at it with a napkin, horrified, and then presses the napkin to her nose, trying to stem the slow trickle of leftover soda. Gus snorts and shakes her head. Chrissy grins widely.

“See you later, Nicole,” she calls over her shoulder as she moves across the dining room.

“Good for you,” Gus says when Nicole turns back around. “You need some more friends than just my girls.”

Nicole shrugs one shoulder and digs back into her fries. The song on the jukebox changes to Bon Jovi’s “I’ll Be There For You” and Nicole sighs.

_ I’d live and die for you _ ,” Jon Bon Jovi cries.  _ “I’d steal the sun from the sky for you _ .”

At home, she grabs an apple, one of those new ones called a Honeycrisp that her mom keeps ranting about. She manages to get through Survivor’s self-titled album, “Premonition,” “Eye of the Tiger,” “Caught in the Game,” and four songs into “Vital Signs” before she leaves for Chrissy’s house. It feels good to be in her Bonneville, the familiar leather of the steering wheel under her hands. She rubs her fingers over the tassel hanging from her rearview mirror, the one Waverly pulled off her own graduation cap and wrapped around the neck of the mirror, before she kissed Nicole dizzy.

_ “So you always take me with you _ ,” Waverly had said.

Nicole stares at it for a second longer, the Survivor tape she took with her from the house playing the chorus of “The Search is Over.” 

“Hey, I was afraid you bailed,” Chrissy says as she opens the door.

Nicole looks over Chrissy’s shoulder at the clock on the mantle. “It’s 5:15,” she says slowly.

Chrissy shrugs and grabs Nicole by the shirt, tugging her into the house. “You’re a flight risk, Haught. I’ve always thought so.”

“Hey, that’s not-” She stops at the look on Chrissy’s face. “Fine, yeah.”

“Without Waverly dragging you around by the collar of that ugly jacket, you’d never have done  _ anything _ in high school.” Chrissy nods empathetically when Nicole starts shaking her head. “For sure. You and Wynonna were always too cool for school.”

Chrissy hands Nicole a cold can of Orange Crush. “Where is that jacket, anyway?” She picks at the sleeve of Nicole’s flannel. It’s a red and black one Waverly got her for her birthday. “You’re always wearing these now. I never see your jacket anymore.”

Nicole thinks of her leather jacket with the Rolling Stones logo zipper, sitting on the end of Waverly’s bed in her dorm. “I gave it to Waves.”

Chrissy huffs. “God, you two are…”

“Romantic?” Nicole offers.

“ _ Grody _ ,” Chrissy corrects. “Like, make barf me.” She smiles softly. “It’s nice, though. That high school sweethearts work out.”

Nicole leans back against the kitchen counter. “Well, what about you? Got anyone steady?”

Chrissy snorts. “ _ Steady _ . Who  _ are _ you, James Dean?”

She starts telling a story about Perry Crofte, and how he’s been hanging around the bank lately.  _ He doesn’t even have an account _ , Chrissy tells her, but he stops by two or three times a day to check the interest rates, even though they never change. Chrissy tells her she’s thinking of giving him a chance, just so he stops coming around, but there’s something in her smile that says she likes the attention. Nicole offers to run a background check on him.

When Nicole checks the clock on the stove as she goes to throw out her empty can, it’s after 7:00 and she’s late. She debates racing home but she’s already nearly an hour late and she doesn’t want to risk being any later. She pulls at the end of her hair anxiously.

“Can I use your phone?”

Chrissy waves a hand towards the phone on the wall. 

Nicole pauses in front of the rotary phone.

Chrissy sighs. “If you can convince my dad to give up that grody thing, I’d crown you Queen of Purgatory.” She tosses her own can into the recycling bin and hooks her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to change out of this Joanie outfit and into something else.” 

Nicole nods absently, already pulling the phone off the wall and punching in the number for Waverly’s dorm room. She chews on her fingernail as it rings.

Chrissy pauses in the doorway to the kitchen. “Hey, want to get pizza, or something?”

“Pizza is fine,” Nicole says quickly. “Whatever toppings.”

“I like hamburger,” someone says in her ear.

“ _ Waverly _ ,” Nicole breathes out. She pulls at the tangled cord and sits heavily in a chair at the kitchen table as Chrissy stomps up the stairs. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey,” Waverly says cautiously. “Is everything okay? You’re calling…  _ really _ late.”

Nicole presses her palm into her forehead, resting her elbow on the kitchen table. “I’m sorry. I’m at Chrissy’s and I totally went space case and forgot to check the time.”

Waverly is quiet for a moment. “You guys are ordering pizza?”

“Yeah. That doesn’t matter, though. How are you? How was your day?” Nicole pushes the sleeves of her flannel up, gripping the phone tighter. She tries to press herself into it, as if being closer makes her closer to Waverly.

“It was fine,” Waverly says shortly. “I didn’t know you were hanging out with Chrissy.”

Nicole looks back towards the hallway. “She came into The Patch today and invited me over. With you and Wynonna gone…” She snorts softly. “Well. I don’t have any other friends.”

Waverly is quiet again. “Aces,” she finally says, her voice flat.

“It’s my day off,” Nicole says.

“I know,” Waverly says shortly. “That’s why you were going to call at 6:15.”

Nicole sighs. “Baby, I’m sorry.” She bites down on her bottom lip. “It won’t happen again,” she promises. 

Waverly doesn’t say anything.

Nicole closes her eyes and pictures Waverly sitting on the edge of her bed, her back straight and her jaw clenched. If they were in the same room, Nicole would know exactly what to do. She would slide her finger under Waverly’s chin and press until Waverly looked up at her. She would stare down at Waverly as she stepped closer, trying not to smile as Waverly’s resolve crumbled. She would press one kiss to the top of Waverly’s cheekbone, letting her lips stay there for a long moment. She would slide her hand to Waverly’s neck and let her lips hover over Waverly’s until she felt Waverly smile and lean the rest of the way in.

When she opens her eyes, she’s still in the Nedley’s kitchen. Waverly is still quiet on the other end of the line. 

“Baby,” Nicole tries again. She picks at a chip in the tabletop. “I sent you a tape, in the mail. Did you get it?”

Waverly finally snorts. “Yes. I did. Though, for the record, I still  _ hate _ ‘Poison,’ and you know it.”

Nicole fakes a gasp. “Waverly Earp, you did  _ not _ just insult the greatest musician to ever exist. Alice Cooper is-”

“But it made me laugh,” Waverly continues over Nicole. “So you get points for that.”

Nicole sighs softly. “Well, thank you kindly, ma’am.”

Waverly echoes her sigh. “I thought you forgot about me,” she admits.

Nicole clenches her hand into a fist. “I would  _ never _ . I swear it.”

“Okay.” Waverly clears her throat. “Okay,” she repeats. “So you were at The Patch today? How’s Gus?”

“Well,” Nicole starts, leaning back in her seat. “She misses you. And she even misses Wynonna.”  _ We both do _ , she doesn’t say. “But, did I tell you what Bobo did? He asked  _ Bethany _ out.”

Waverly laughs in her ear. Nicole feels the tension in her body start to melt. She feels herself falling into the steady rhythm of Waverly’s words, the way her voice rises and falls as she tells a story about Eliza and a guy from their English class named Earl, who tried to ask Eliza on a date.

Chrissy comes back as Waverly is telling Nicole about her history professor, the one who reminds Waverly so much of Curtis. 

“He, just…” Waverly sighs. “He  _ believes _ that I’m good at this, you know?”

Nicole smiles. “Of course I do, Waves. You’re, like, hella smart.”

Waverly snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m an officer of the law,” Nicole reminds her. “I don’t lie.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes as she opens the refrigerator and pulls out another soda. She holds a second can up at Nicole.

“No, I’m okay,” Nicole says.

“What?” Waverly asks.

“Sorry, baby. Chrissy was asking if I wanted another soda.”

Waverly is quiet again, and Nicole winces. 

“I can let you go,” Waverly finally says.

“ _ Waves _ ,” Nicole sighs. 

“No,” Waverly says quickly. “I skipped dinner earlier.”

_ Waiting for you to call _ , she doesn’t say. Nicole can hear the words anyway.

“And I’m, like, big time hungry,” Waverly continues. “Maybe I’ll get pizza. Or maybe the dining hall is still open.”

Nicole sighs again. There’s a finality to Waverly's voice that Nicole has never been very good at arguing against. She turns her chair a little, angling herself so her back is to Chrissy, sitting on the kitchen counter and swinging her legs side to side.

“I’ll talk you to in a few days?” Nicole asks hopefully.

“Of course,” Waverly says, her voice soft. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” Nicole says quickly. “Sixty-four days down. Only sixty-two to go.”

“You’re counting down?” Waverly asks.

“Totally. We’re halfway there."

“ _ Livin’ On A- _ ”

“Waverly,” Nicole groans. “Please, don’t.”

“ _ Take my hand, we’ll make it I swear _ ,” Waverly sings loudly and off-key.

Nicole sticks her finger in her free ear and starts humming loudly until she can hear Waverly laughing through the receiver. 

“I love you,” Waverly says, her words still light and airy with laughter.

Nicole sighs and presses her hand to her chest, to try and stop her heart from pounding its way through her ribcage. “I love you, too,” she whispers.

“Like you mean it,” Waverly orders.

Nicole clears her throat and raises her voice. “I love you, too,” she says, louder.

“Good,” Waverly says. “You’ll call me Tuesday?”

“Scout’s honor.”

“You weren’t a scout, Nicole,” Waverly says flatly.

Nicole shrugs. “It’s still a promise.”

When she hangs up the phone, Chrissy is shaking her head slowly.

“What?” Nicole asks, tugging the sleeves of her flannel down over her hands. She wraps both arms around her body, self-conscious under Chrissy’s smirking stare.

“You two are, like…  _ gag me _ .” The smile on her face takes the sting out of her words.

Nicole feels her face flush. She opens her mouth to argue, but Chrissy hops off the counter and hip checks her out of the way, grabbing the phone. She pauses with her hand on the dial. “Pepperoni okay?”

“Hamburger, too,” Nicole says. She thinks of Waverly and wonders if Waverly is getting pizza, too; if she’s getting hamburger on her pizza, too.

_ Sixty-four days and counting _ .

 

-

Nicole jogs to the kitchen as another loud shout erupts from the living room. She pokes her head back around the doorway in time to see Nathan lunging across the coffee table, grabbing at something in Perry’s hand. Chrissy, stuck between them, swats at Nathan uselessly, while she screams for them to stop acting like a bunch of bohunks.

“Quit it! And don’t knock over that board!” Nicole yells over the noise.

Nathan pauses, his hand wrapped around Perry’s clenched fist. “Get me more salsa.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “Get it yourself.”

Nathan sighs and pushes off the floor, using the coffee table for support. Nicole watches him carefully, her eyes lingering on the way his face tightens in pain for a brief second before he’s fully upright. She should have just gotten the salsa herself; it’ll be hard for him to get back down to the floor now that he busted his knee.

Nicole grabs a chair and puts it under the phone, then pulls the receiver into her lap.

Nathan opens the refrigerator and pulls out the salsa, some pizza Chrissy ordered, and a beer.

“Nate,” Nicole starts.

Nathan waves her off. “Don’t be a narc, Nicole. It’s one beer.”

“You shouldn’t drink if you’re taking that medication,” she tries to argue.

He glares at her. “Hey. I know you’re like, top dog Five-O. But can you quit policin’ me in my house?”

“It’s mom’s-” She snaps her mouth shut. “Fine. But you’re not driving anywhere tonight.”

Nathan shrugs. He pops the top off the bottle of Molson and grabs the chips from the pantry. Nicole watches him rifle through the refrigerator for a moment longer before she softly shakes her head. 

She takes a minute, smoothing down the fabric of her Skid Row ‘Youth Gone Wild’ concert t-shirt. She rerolls the sleeves and checks her reflection in the large silver serving platter her mom keeps in the pantry.

“You know she can’t see you through the phone, right?” Nathan asks, his mouth full of chips.

Nicole flips him off.

She punches the number in a little too hard and the top of her finger aches as she listens to it ring. She’s grinning; she’s been waiting to talk to Waverly all day and she even put a piece of paper on the TV in the living room to remind her, so she wouldn’t be late. 

“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice asks.

Nicole frowns and pulls the phone away from her ear. She slowly puts it back. “Uh, hi. Sorry, I’m looking for Waverly?”

There’s a pause before the voice starts again. “Oh. You’re Nicole.”

Nicole feels her shoulders straighten, her jaw locking defensively. “Yeah. And who the hell are you?”

“Eliza.”

“Oh,” Nicole breathes out, her shoulders dropping. She laughs softly. “Right. My bad. Nice to finally talk to you. Waverly talks about you all the time.”

“Waverly talks about you, too,” Eliza says. There’s a tone in her voice, though, that makes Nicole’s heart hammer anxiously into her chest.

She swallows heavily. “Is, uh, she there? Can I talk to her?”

Something muffles the receiver on the other end of the line, but Nicole can hear soft voices going back and forth for a moment before one gets louder. There’s a couple of thuds as the phone gets moved around and then silence.

“Waverly?” she tries.

“Yeah,” Waverly says wearily.

Nicole smiles. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, and pulls her feet up onto the chair, wrapping her free arm around her knees. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” Waverly says, her voice still low.

Nathan raps his knuckles against the top of the table, getting her attention. “Hey, I know you’re in full lovebird mode, but don’t take too long. If we don’t keep playing now, I’m going to miss ‘The Racoons’ episode I wanted to watch.”

Nicole waves him off impatiently. “Fine, whatever.  _ Take a hike _ .” She shakes her head and focuses back on the phone. “Sorry, Waves. Nathan is being a total dickweed. Ever since the accident, he’s been, like, a total putt.”

“...the accident?” Waverly asks slowly.

Nicole frowns. “Yeah. The one at the factory, remember? One of the conveyor belts slipped out of place and dropped all of the metal fittings onto Nathan and his machine partner.” She shifts a little in her seat. “Didn’t I tell you that?”

“No,” Waverly says shortly.

“I swear I did,” Nicole insists. “I was telling you the other day that-” She stops quickly and sighs. “Oh. No. I didn’t. I told  _ Chrissy _ . I’m so-”

Waverly snorts, something cold and flat on the other end of the line. “Of course you told  _ her _ ,” she says. 

Nicole frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Waverly barrels on like she doesn’t even hear the question. “Did you tell her on Thursday, when you  _ forgot _ to call me?”

Nicole tips her head in confusion, and the phone presses uncomfortably into her shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t call me Thursday.”

“Yes, I did.”

“ _ No _ , you didn’t,” Waverly says, her voice tight. “You called me Tuesday and you said you would Thursday, but I waited  _ all night, _ and you never called.”

“Thursday, Waverly, I-” Nicole pauses. “No, I  _ did _ . I was on patrol and Chrissy rode along and-” She stops again, exhaling noisily through her nose. Chrissy had ridden along for a bit, and Nicole had shown her the whole patrol route and… and Nicole had never called Waverly. “ _ Oh _ ,” she says softly.

“ _ Oh _ ,” Waverly mocks. 

Nicole sighs and drops her head onto her knees. “I’m sorry, Waverly.”

She can picture Waverly on the other end of the line, rolling her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to-”

“You  _ never _ mean to, Nicole,” Waverly interrupts, her voice shrill.

“I’ve  _ never _ missed a call before,” Nicole starts to argue.

“But ever since you and Chrissy became  _ B.F.F.’s _ , you never remember to call on time,” Waverly continues. “It’s always, ‘ _ sorry, babe. Chrissy and I were at the movies _ ’ or ‘ _ Gosh, Waves, Chrissy and I just went bowling _ ’ or ‘ _ Chrissy came on patrol with me tonight and it was so much fun _ ’ or-”

“Okay, Waverly,” Nicole interrupts.

“ _ No _ . Don’t ‘ _ okay, Waverly _ ’ me like I’m a little kid.” Waverly’s voice is calm and measured, and it makes Nicole shift uncomfortably in her chair. “You keep blowing me off for her and talking about her like she’s so  _ rad _ and she’s just, like,  _ replacing _ Wynonna-”

Nicole feels her back teeth grind together. “Wynonna left town, Waverly. I’m not just going to sit around and go mental waiting for her.”

“ _ Oh _ , so now you’re just useless because Wynonna left you and-”

“ _ You left me _ .”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. Nicole can only hear the roaring of her pulse in her ears and her heavy breathing.

“You’re the one who convinced me to go,” Waverly says quietly.

Nicole scoffs. “It doesn’t mean this isn’t the worst.” She digs her fingernails into her jeans, into the denim right over where her knee is, but the fabric is too thick to feel anything. “It doesn’t mean that I’m not stuck in this town without you.”

“You could have-”

“Nicole!” Chrissy shouts from the other room.

Waverly makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat that settles somewhere inside Nicole’s chest and aches. 

“Baby,” Nicole whispers.

“Just go,” Waverly says wearily. “I'm interrupting something.”

Nicole shakes her head, unfolding her legs and standing up from her chair. “No.” She stretches the cord until it reaches the pantry and she closes herself inside, not bothering to turn on the light. “Waverly, please.”

“You should go. Your friends are waiting.  _ Chrissy _ is waiting.” That finality is back, the one that Nicole knows means that it’s over, it’s done, and she can’t try and change Waverly’s mind.

She tries anyway. “Okay, listen. I’m going to get one of those watches, the Casio ones that you can set an alarm on, and I’ll never, ever forget again, I  _ swear _ .”

Waverly is quiet. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she admits. Nicole has to press the phone painfully against her ear to hear her. “I can’t keep waiting around for you to call all the time.”

Nicole feels the floor tilt under her feet and she reaches for the shelving, trying to steady herself.

“I can’t,” Waverly repeats.

Nicole tries to breathe in, but the air gets stuck somewhere inside her throat. Her chest feels like it’s caving, and Waverly just keeps talking, like she’s not even aware that Nicole is falling apart. She just keeps talking, but Nicole can’t even hear what she’s saying anymore, words sounds and phrases like, “ _ this is hard _ ” and “ _ it hurts _ ” and “ _ I can’t _ .”

“Waverly,” she breathes out.

“We’ll just talk at Christmas, okay?” Waverly says. 

“No, Waverly,” Nicole tries again, scrambling for something to say that'll change Waverly’s mind. 

“Bye,” Waverly exhales.

There's a hard click in her ear; Waverly hung up. Nicole slams the pantry accordion door open so hard that it cracks near the hinge on the top. The room feels like it's spinning. 

Nathan pops his head around the doorway, and rolls his eyes at her as he spots the phone in her hand. “Okay, we get it, she's the bomb. But are you  _ finally _ done talking to Waverly?”

Her grip tightens on the phone until she feels the receiver cut into her hand.

Nathan doesn't notice. “We’re going to make every spin count double, so we're not here all night. So tell Waverly goodbye and-”

“Get  _ bent _ , Nathan,” she growls, slamming the receiver into the cradle. She shoulders him hard as she pushes past him, ignoring Chrissy and Perry calling her name. She climbs the stairs two at a time and shuts her bedroom door so hard it rattles. 

She's pretty sure Waverly just  _ dumped _ her. 

She takes deep, shuddering breaths, her whole body heaving. She grabs at the first thing she sees, the calendar she's been using to mark off the days until Waverly comes home. She tears it in half, throwing both sections across the room. They flutter softly to the floor. Her legs give out then, and she collapses to her bed, pressing her face into her pillow. 

She screams until her throats feels raw. 

Waverly just  _ dumped _ her. 


	2. sending all my love along the wire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Nicole pulled out the Christmas gifts she had hidden under her bed, half of her ripped calendar had come out with it. There, circled in red, was “WAVERLY” on today, December 23. Nicole had planned on meeting her at the bus station and driving Waverly to Lover’s Lane and putting on Def Leppard and just holding her for a while.
> 
> Instead, Nicole had wrapped Gus’s present with shaking hands, finished all the Orange Crush in the refrigerator, and watched the first five Rocky movies. Then she ironed her jeans, her white shirt, her flannel, and her socks until there were creases she was sure could cut corners. She tied her shoes four times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, this soothes the sting of chapter 1.

Halfway through her shift, her radio crackles to life. She barely hears it over the sound of the cassette in the tape deck.

“Haught?”

Nicole reaches for the mic wearily, turning down the music so she can radio back without Chicago’s “Hard Habit to Break” playing too loudly. “Go for Haught.”

“It’s Linda. You going out of service tonight?”

Nicole sighs and grips the steering wheel tightly with her free hand. She holds the mic to her shoulder for a minute before she depresses the button and holds it back up to her mouth. “Not tonight, Linda.”

The line is quiet for a minute before Linda comes back through. “You sure, honey? Tonight is your night, ain’t it?”

_ Where were you the night I forgot to call _ , Nicole thinks bitterly. She shakes her head; it’s not Linda’s fault. It’s her own fault she’s a mental case. 

“Not tonight,” she says again.

“Okay, girl,” Linda says. The radio goes silent again and Nicole hangs it back on the receiver. 

_ “I’m addicted to you, babe _ ,” Peter Cetera croons. “ _ You’re a hard habit to break _ .”

It’s the same conversation they’ve had for the last four of Nicole’s ‘nights’. Two Tuesdays ago, Linda had called through with a laugh, asking her if she needed a watch for Christmas. Nicole had rubbed anxiously at the new Casio F-91W digital watch on her wrist, just hidden under her jacket sleeve. She had gone out and bought it the day after her last call to Waverly and read through all of the instructions before she set it for 6pm.

It goes off for twenty seconds every day and for those twenty seconds, every day, Nicole feels her chest crack open just a little more. 

Two nights later, on Thursday, Linda had radioed her again, asking if she was calling out because Mrs. Judd was looking to report someone taking her trash can for the fifth time this week. Nicole had clutched the radio tightly and shifted the cruiser into drive. “I’ll head over to the Judd residence. I’m pretty sure she just misplaced the can again.”

Last Tuesday and Thursday, Linda had asked, but hadn’t pushed, and Nicole had gone back to sitting outside of Cal’s Corner, staring at the payphone until a call did come in. 

“Hard Habit To Break” fades into Alias’ “More Than Words Can Say.”

She checks the dashboard clock. It’s a half hour past call time and she wonders what Waverly is doing right now, instead of talking to her. Did she finish that big art history project, about the role of “The Group of Seven” on landscape painting? Nicole smiles a little as she remembers Waverly going on and on about Franklin Carmichael and Franz Johnston and the other ones she can’t remember.

“This class is so clutch,” Waverly had said. “It’s  _ art _ history, which I didn’t really think I’d have an interest in, but-but did you know…”

She wonders if Waverly is finally going out. She remembers Eliza yelling on the other end of the line, trying to coax Waverly out of the room. Waverly had always told Eliza later, she was talking to Nicole. It had been sweet, then, and Waverly had whispered into the phone that she’d rather listen to Nicole talk about  _ police codes _ than go out to some fraternity house. Now, Nicole scowls at her dashboard. 

“ _ I need you now, more than words can say, _ ” Freddy Cruci signs. “ _ I need you now, I’ve got to find a way. I need you now, before I lose my mind _ .”

She’s thought about calling Waverly. The morning after their last conversation, she had crept down to the kitchen before anyone else was awake and had pulled the phone into the pantry. She had gotten through dialing four numbers before she hit the switchhook and the dial tone came back. 

Waverly had told her not to call, and Nicole still can’t figure out a way to do the things Waverly tells her not to. It makes her feel like she’s in high school again, and Waverly is telling her she can’t cut class because it’ll look bad on her permanent record.  _ Before she started convincing me to skip class to spend time in the second floor bathroom _ , Nicole thinks.

She turns up the tape, parked outside Cal’s Corner for the sixth night shift in a row, and slumps in her seat. She sits there through a few more songs - Aerosmith’s “You See Me Crying,” Cheap Trick’s “The Flame,” and “Changes” by Black Sabbath.

Nothing by The Smiths, though. Not since she was fourteen and reeling from Shae-not-being-Waverly and wearing out the tape on the self-titled Smiths cassette she found at Mattie’s. Not since Waverly had picked up the cassette case decided that Morrissey was  _ cute _ ,  _ just like Champ _ .

She screams along to “Nothing Else Matters” by Metallica until her throat hurts.

It’s not until “All Out of Love” by Air Supply comes on that she has to drive away. Her foot is too heavy on the gas and her back tires spin, leaving a small mark behind in the half-gravel parking lot. 

_ I’m all out of love, what am I without you,  _ she thinks to herself as Cal’s disappears in her rearview mirror.  _ I can’t be too late to say that I was so wrong _ .

 

-

Gus storms the station one day a few weeks later, thunder in her eyes and Christmas right around the corner. “Listen here, girl,” she starts loudly. She looks around and lowers her voice. “I know you've got yourself some new friends now, and you're not obligated to come visit an old lady like me.” She pauses. “And I don't know what's going on with you and Waverly, but you sure as hell aren't missing our Christmas dinner, you hear me? My girls are gonna be there.  _ All _ of them.” 

Nicole nods dumbly. 

Gus is gone as quick as she came in.

Someone a few desks over snickers, but when Nicole glares sweepingly around the bullpen, the noise dies. 

It's Gus, and only Gus, she tells herself, that has her standing in front of The Patch, shifting her pile of gifts to one arm and blowing into her free hand to warm it up. It has  _ nothing _ to do with Waverly.

Waverly, who came home today. 

When Nicole pulled out the Christmas gifts she had hidden under her bed, half of her ripped calendar had come out with it. There, circled in red, was “WAVERLY” on today, December 23. Nicole had planned on meeting her at the bus station and driving Waverly to Lover’s Lane and putting on Def Leppard and just holding her for a while. 

Instead, Nicole had wrapped Gus’s present with shaking hands, finished all the Orange Crush in the refrigerator, and watched the first five Rocky movies. Then she ironed her jeans, her white shirt, her flannel, and her socks until there were creases she was sure could cut corners. She tied her shoes four times.

Even if she hadn’t found the calendar, she knows Waverly came home today. On her way to The Patch, she had driven by the McCready house and the lights in Waverly’s room were on, suitcases piled up by the window. Chrissy had called, too, to tell her that she saw Gus driving through town with Waverly in the passenger seat. 

“Are you going to-”

“I don't know,” Nicole said. “Gus said I needed to be there, but I don't know if I can see her after… everything.”

Chrissy sighed. “You can always come over. Dad would love to have you.”

“Thanks,” Nicole murmured. 

Chrissy had been sympathetic about everything - after she had hunted Nicole down and demanded to know why she was suddenly being ignored -  and constantly tried to reassure Nicole that if she just  _ talked _ to Waverly, things would work themselves out. Nicole hadn't had the heart to tell her she was too afraid to talk about it in person, to see the truth of being over in Waverly’s eyes. 

Now she’s loitering outside of The Patch, nervous to push the door open and step inside. The front windows are fogged up with the heat that’s on and the colored Christmas lights Gus strung along the top sill have blurred. Nicole has always loved them, though. She loved holding the ladder while Curtis strung them up; she loved untangling them when Wynonna tried to help and inevitably made things worse; she loved when Waverly would pick the worst songs off the jukebox and Curtis would try and get Gus to two-step with him. Christmas is different without Curtis around, but Nicole knows this year is going to be the worst one yet.

There's a small gift for Waverly - a necklace she bought months ago, with her first real paycheck- tucked into her pocket, burning through the denim. She’s not sure why she brought it with her. She didn’t wrap it; she grabbed it off her dresser and shoved it into her pocket and left the house before she could change her mind. 

“This is a bad idea,” she mumbles to herself.

She smoothes down her shirt and winces when she realizes she’s wearing the blue and black flannel from their date at Shorty’s.

“This is the worst idea,” she says.

She should go back home - stop by Foster’s, first, for more soda - and lock herself in her room and re-alphabetize her tapes.

Something comes down hard between her shoulderblades and she barely catches the presents she’s holding before they hit the ground.

“Why’re we standing out in the cold like a bunch of statues?” Wynonna whispers in her ear. Her hand is still pressed against Nicole’s back. 

Nicole sputters uselessly for a moment before her brain catches up to what her eyes are seeing. “You’re-you’re  _ home _ .”

“Uh,  _ duh _ .”

Nicole narrows her eyes. “You didn’t call.”

“Did you waste away waiting for me?” Wynonna asks, her face pinched and her voice accented.

Nicole pauses too long.

“Did you?” Wynonna asks, her voice dropping to normal. “Dude, I  _ told _ you I was coming back.”

“Yeah, well. I wasn’t sure if you’d gotten yourself killed out on the road, or whatever,” Nicole says defensively. “You  _ were _ riding with a biker gang. Not that I would have cared, I mean,” she adds.

Wynonna rolls her eyes before they drift to the presents in Nicole’s arms. “Is one of those for me?”

“No,” Nicole says firmly. “They’re all for-”

“Waverly,” Wynonna sighs. “Man, I hope you two haven’t been unbearable while I’ve been gone.”

Nicole feels her face flush and her heart start to race.

Wynonna reads the color in her cheeks wrong and groans. “God, I knew this would happen. I’d leave you alone for _ten_ _minutes_ and you’d be all over each other.”

“You’ve been gone two months,” Nicole says quietly. She glances back towards the door, at the shapes she can see that must be Gus and Waverly. “And Waverly has been gone for longer than that.”

Wynonna grins sheepishly at her. “I got you a keychain, though?”

Nicole snorts. “A keychain. That’s all I’m worth to you?”

Wynonna elbows her in the side. She looks past Nicole. “Well, what are we waiting for?” She pushes again and Nicole stumbles forward a step. “It’s freezing out here.”

Nicole pushes back against Wynonna’s hand. “Actually, I think I forgot-”

Wynonna is already pulling the door open, shoving Nicole the last few steps over the threshold. The bell above her head rings loudly in her ears, echoing long after clapper stops swinging. The sudden push into the heated diner disorients her and her eyes swing wildly around the room before they settle on the Gus-shape moving towards her, then past her, wrapping Wynonna in a rare hug.

Nicole can feel Gus’s hand against her arm, squeezing tightly. The room stops spinning slowly and Nicole can feel the air rushing back into her lungs.

The opening notes of “Faithfully” are pouring from the jukebox speakers.

Waverly looks up.

“All my girls in one place,” Gus is saying. “Well, I guess miracles really do happen.”

Nicole feels the air push back out of her lungs and she chokes. Wynonna claps her hard on the back.

“So who brought alcohol?” Wynonna doesn’t wait for an answer, pulling open her leather jacket and grabbing a small flask from the inside pocket. “I did.”

Gus snatches it out of her hand. “Gimme that. You’re not old enough to be drinking that.”

Wynonna shrugs, but when Gus turns away, she locks eyes with Nicole and pats the other side of her jacket. “Later,” she mouths. She follows Gus, making a grab for the flask. “Oh, come on, Gus. I’m practically a Bandito at this point. We don’t follow the  _ rules _ .”

They disappear through the swinging doors into the kitchen.

Nicole stares across the diner, just over Waverly’s shoulder. Her eyes burn and her flannel feels too hot on the back of her neck. Her eyes dart to Waverly’s face, only letting herself look for a moment.

“Hi,” Waverly says quietly, taking a small step forward.

“I can leave,” Nicole blurts out. She dumps the presents onto the closest table.

Waverly stops moving. “Why?”

Nicole opens her mouth, the burn in her eyes too much now. She stumbles backwards. “I shouldn’t have-” She stops abruptly. “Tell Gus I’m sorry. I won’t-won’t bother you.” She keeps moving backwards and grabs blindly for the door handle, but the kitchen door swings open and Wynonna pushes back into the dining room.

“And then I had to flash a rival gang to get away from the-” She stops short, frowning. “Where’re you going?”

Nicole shakes her head and turns, shoving the door open and taking long strides onto the sidewalk. She makes it to the curb before she doubles over, an ache in her chest. She can hear “Faithfully” bleeding out from The Patch as the door closes slowly. 

“ _ Wondering where I am, lost without you _ .”

She gasps for air that doesn’t come quick enough and wipes clumsily at her eyes. 

She hears the door close and open a second later and she straightens instantly, digging harder at her eyes to get rid of the tears. 

“Sorry, Wynonna. I know you just got back, but I totally spaced and my mom said she needed me at the house tonight so-”

There’s a small laugh. “Wrong Earp.”

Nicole spins clumsily. One of her Red Wings catches in the broken curb and she stumbles slightly. “Waverly,” she breathes out.

Waverly takes a few small steps forward, her hands out in front of her. “Wynonna was going to follow you, but I asked her not to. I wanted to.”

Nicole chokes out a laugh. “Why?” 

Waverly tips her head to one side. The blurry Christmas lights blink behind her. Nicole thinks of roller skates and neon lights and the look in Waverly’s eyes when she kissed her. 

“I think we need to talk,” Waverly says. “ _ After _ dinner.”

“I don’t know if I can be in there,” Nicole admits, her voice hoarse. She looks away, down the street towards the lights of Shorty’s.

Waverly pauses. “Gus wants you there. And Wynonna. And…” She inhales. “I want you there.”

Nicole’s head snaps back around. “You do?” she asks.

Waverly nods slowly. “I think we need to talk,” she repeats. She hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “Come back in?”

Nicole nods before Waverly finishes talking. She smoothes down the sides of her flannel. Waverly’s eyes follow her hands and there’s a flash of something in them that Nicole can’t quite see.

The door opens again and Gus pops her head out of the diner. “Are you two coming? The turkey is done and Wynonna has probably already eaten half of the scalloped potatoes by now.”

Waverly looks pointedly at Nicole.

Nicole swallows heavily and nods again, taking cautious steps past Waverly and Gus, into The Patch’s dining room. Wynonna is shoveling scalloped potatoes into her mouth.

“You really expected me to wait?” Wynonna asks around a mouthful of food.

Nicole sits across from Waverly and it’s worse than sitting next to her. She stares into her plate instead of looking up and at Waverly; she hands over the green beans blindly; when they toast to another year, Nicole looks at Gus and Wynonna and at the jukebox, just past Waverly’s shoulder. Wynonna kicks her under the table a few times, mouthing questions at her that Nicole shakes off. 

After the pie is gone, Gus and Wynonna carry the empty plates back into the kitchen, arguing about Wynonna picking up a few shifts now that she’s back in town.

“I don’t want to bus tables,” Wynonna argues. “I’m a  _ good _ waitress.”

  
“You’re a terrible waitress,” Gus fires back. “Last year, you dumped a milkshake on Carl Junger’s head.”

Wynonna shrugs. “He really should just start expecting it at this point,” she says as she pushes into the kitchen.

Nicole stares at the swinging kitchen door for so long that she doesn’t know Waverly is up and moving around the table until there’s a familiar hand burning through the skin of her wrist. She pulls her hand away, seeing the flash of hurt in Waverly’s eyes before she shoves her hand in her pocket and takes a step back.

“Sorry,” Waverly says. Her eyes cut to the floor. She cradles her arms against her body, swaying her hips back and forth. 

Nicole looks at Waverly for the first time all night. She’s in her high tops still, her laces matching the red, white, and green legwarmers she’s wearing over white leggings. Her sweater is big, hanging down over her hips, with small candy canes sprinkled everywhere. It hangs off one shoulder but Nicole can’t tell until Waverly throws her side ponytail behind it. 

Nicole’s stomach turns, her chest aches, and if she could get her feet to work, she would run.

She pushes a shaking hand through her hair and shrugs. “It’s-”

“Can we talk?” Waverly interrupts. She glances back over her shoulder, towards the kitchen. “Maybe outside?” 

Nicole swallows past the lump building in her throat and nods. She pushes out of The Patch and onto the sidewalk without waiting to see if Waverly is following her. It’s too cold to be standing on the right in front of the diner, too out in the open. Wynonna and Gus could crowd the door and listen to everything they say; anyone could wander out of Shorty’s and down the street through their conversation. She fumbles in her pocket for her keys until she remembers she never locked the door. She pulls open her driver’s door, slides into her car, and shuts it tightly behind her.

For a moment, Waverly hovers on the sidewalk, standing in front of her car. Her body dips to the right, like she’s going to slide into the car through Nicole’s side.  _ Muscle memory _ , Nicole thinks. She can’t remember the last time Waverly opened the passenger side door; she’s always slipped past Nicole on her way into the car, her hands brushing Nicole’s hips or her lips brushing Nicole’s mouth. 

The car door opens and Nicole jumps. Her hands go to her side, to a service weapon she isn’t carrying, and it takes three conscious, deep breaths before she can turn and look at the side of Waverly’s face in the streetlight.

“You still have this,” Waverly says softly. She reaches up and touches the ends of her graduation tassel.

Nicole clenches her hand into a fist, tucking it tight against her thigh. “Uh, yeah,” she mumbles, embarrassed.

Waverly’s lips twitch but if she smiles, Nicole misses it. “Dinner was good,” she says casually.

Nicole nods. “Yeah,” she breathes out. “That pie was, uh. It was good.”

“I made it,” Waverly admits.

“ _ Aces _ ,” Nicole continues quietly. She exhales and watches a small white cloud of hot air dissipate in front of her. She fumbles again for her keys, wrestling them loose from her jeans pocket, and sliding them into the ignition. She turns the car on and cranks the heat to high, angling the vents up. “Is this-”

Nazareth’s “Love Hurts” is playing, Dan McCafferty in the middle of a long note.

_ “Love is like a cloud, holds a lot of rain.” _

Nicole cranks the volume down, her face red. She stares out her window, chewing on her bottom lip for a minute before she goes for her thumb nail. 

“Stop that,” Waverly scolds quietly, her fingers around Nicole’s wrist again. “It’s grody.”

Nicole lets Waverly bring her hand down against the cold leather bench seat. Waverly’s fingers trail along the inside of her wrist, over her palm, and off the tips of her fingers.

“Bad habit,” she manages to say.

“I know.”

“I really haven’t done it since-”

“Since Curtis died,” Waverly finishes. “I know.”

Nicole nods. There are a hundred questions pushing at her chest, all begging to be asked. She presses a palm flat against her breastbone, trying to hold them back. Waverly’s hand is still so close to hers on the bench; if Nicole turned her hand over, they’d be touching again. 

“Christmas still feels weird without him, right?” Waverly asks. She sighs softly. “I mean, he’s been gone six years and it still feels warped.”

Nicole nods again. The pressure keeps building in her chest, percolating down into her stomach.

“But he loved Christmas so much. It’s kind of hard not to still like celebrating it, right?” Waverly sighs. “It was totally strange not helping Gus hang the lights this year.” Her hand slides closer to Nicole’s as she leans forward, ducking under the rearview mirror to peer at the Christmas lights in the window. “Did you help Gus?”

Nicole hates that she shakes her head.  _ No _ , she thinks.  _ I didn’t help Gus this year. I was too busy avoiding all the places that make me think of you _ .

Waverly frowns slightly. “Well, it still looks good.”

Her throat burns with unspoken words. It feels raw as she swallows another question back.

“I decorated my room. Eliza, you remember her? Her mom sent her some lights and one of those small tabletop trees they sell at Sears that we put on her desk so we could put our presents under and-”

“Why are we doing this?” Nicole blurts out. Her chest finally caves as the words erupt from her mouth. Her shoulders pull in. She pants, her eyes stinging.

Waverly pulls back a little, her mouth twisted into a small frown. “Nicole, I-”

“I mean,” Nicole starts. She stops quickly, shaking her head. “Why are we talking about… about these things that don’t… They don’t  _ matter _ .” She grips the steering wheel with both hands. Waverly’s hand shifts across the bench, back into her lap. Nicole watches it and squeezes the wheel even tighter. “You… You  _ dumped _ me. And now you’re sitting… We’re talking about tabletop Christmas trees and I don’t know  _ why _ , because you broke up with me.”

Waverly’s frown fades quickly, her mouth falling open softly. “Oh,” she breathes out. She frowns again. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“What am I…” Nicole grips the steering wheel tighter, feeling the circulation in her hand start to fade. “You broke up with me, Waverly.”

Waverly shifts, pulling a leg under her body. “Nicole-”

“No,” Nicole says shaking her head furiously. Her eyes are welling again, burning slightly at the edges where her tears are forming. “You dumped me.”

“I didn’t dump you,” Waverly tries to argue.

Nicole turns her head sharply. “You hung up on me. You told me you couldn’t wait around for me anymore and you’d talk to me at Christmas and, and-”

“You didn’t call me!” Waverly shouts.

Nicole’s mouth drops open. “You told me  _ not _ to.”

“Well.” Waverly crosses her arms over her chest. “I still can’t believe you didn’t even try.”

Nicole’s shoulders slump. “Waverly, you told me not to call you.”

“Why would you listen to me?” 

“I  _ always _ listen to you.”

Waverly swats Nicole’s shoulder. “You’re an idiot.”

“Waverly,” Nicole growls. “ _ You broke up with me _ .”

“No, I didn’t, you  _ airhead _ .” Waverly sighs and presses one hand to the dashboard, holding herself upright. “ _ God _ . I was… I was mad. But I didn’t break up with you.”

Nicole sighs and lets her forehead drop against her steering wheel. “Coulda pulled a fast one on me.”

Nicole feels Waverly’s fingertips on her shoulder blade for a moment before they’re gone.

“I was jealous,” Waverly says quietly.

Nicole turns her head. “Of  _ what _ ? You’re the one out there, motoring around the city and learning all these really smart things and-”

“And you’re here,” Waverly interrupts. She shrugs one shoulder. “With  _ Chrissy _ .”

Nicole sighs and pushes off her wheel, leaning back into her seat. “Waverly-”

“No.” Waverly holds up her hand.

Nicole grabs Waverly’s hand, ignoring the spark that rips through her body at the small touch, and pushes it down against the bench seat. “I’m not looking to steal your friends, Waverly. I don’t-” She stops when Waverly lets out a sharp laugh that echoes uncomfortably against the windshield. “What?”

“You think I’m jealous because Chrissy is my friend and you’re stealing her away from me?” Waverly scoffs and looks out the window, at The Patch and its lights. “Nicole, I’m jealous because I think  _ she’s _ stealing  _ you _ away from me.”

“ _ What _ ?” Nicole breathes out. 

Waverly shakes her head. “You don’t even see it, do you?”

Nicole feels her body pitching forward, sliding a few inches along the seat. “See  _ what _ ?”

“You were always with her. You kept being late for our calls, or calling just for a few minutes before you went back to whatever you were doing with her,” Waverly says. She looks back at Nicole. “You thought you told me about Nathan’s accident, but you really told her and you couldn’t even remember.”

“Waverly,” Nicole tries.

Waverly shakes her head. “You forgot to call me because you took  _ Chrissy _ out on patrol with you, even though you’ve  _ never _ taken me.” She sighs. “I don’t know why it’s harder this time, than when you were in the academy. But every time you called me and I could hear her, I just got…”

“Jealous,” Nicole finishes.

“Sometimes you would call and when I asked how you were, all you would talk about was  _ Chrissy _ .”

“... _ Oh _ ,” Nicole breathes out.

Waverly rolls her eyes. “Yeah.  _ Oh _ .”

Nicole shakes her head. “But-”

“And in high school,” Waverly says. “When you were avoiding me all the time? Hanging out with her instead of me?”

“You thought I was interested in her,” Nicole says.

Waverly nods. “I thought you were finally realizing I wasn’t worth it,” she says quietly. “That you picked someone smart and pretty who was  _ there _ .”

“But I don’t  _ want _ her.”

Waverly shrugs.

Nicole slides forward again, her knees bumping Waverly’s. “No. I  _ don’t  _ want her,” she says again, her voice firm.

Waverly sighs. “Nicole-”

Nicole picks up Waverly’s hand, lacing their fingers together. It sends a rush through her body and air fills her lungs. “Waverly. I love you.”

Waverly looks up at her through her eyelashes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “You do?”

“Chrissy is my friend.” Nicole pushes closer. Her thigh presses into Waverly’s hip. “Chrissy has always only ever been my friend. She…” Nicole scoffs. “God, she  _ told me _ to call you. And when I told her you didn’t want me to, she called me an idiot. It’s.. it was the same way in high school. She’s always been telling me how I need to get real and pull my head out of my ass.”

Waverly’s lips twitch into something like a smile.

“Chrissy isn’t after me, either,” Nicole says quietly.

Waverly’s mouth turns down again.

“She’s  _ not _ ,” Nicole insists. “First of all, she’s dating Perry and-”

“Perry  _ Crofte _ ?”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “Yes, Perry Crofte. Well,” she frowns. “They make out a lot when we take snack breaks during Monopoly. Because Chrissy and Perry come over and hang out with Nathan and me. We’re  _ friends _ . All of us.”

Waverly’s face doesn’t change.

Nicole sighs. “She’s super into guys who wear two polos, pop their collars, and listen to Bananarama, okay? It’s a really specific thing to be into, but it’s what she wants.” Nicole ducks her head until she meets Waverly’s eyes. “She really doesn’t want me, okay? In fact…” Nicole laughs bitterly and trails off.

“What?” Waverly asks.

“Chrissy is the reason we got back together,” Nicole admits. “After Stephanie’s party, she told me to just talk to you and it’s why I went to The Patch that night.  _ Chrissy _ is the one who convinced me to go after what I want.” She pauses. “ _ You _ .”

Waverly looks away, her cheeks flushes.

“I have never, and will never, be in love with Chrissy Nedley.” Nicole closes the last remaining space between them, their bodies flush. If she leaned down an inch, she could be kissing Waverly. The thought makes her forget what she was going to say for a moment. “I have  _ always _ loved you.”

Waverly’s eyes flutter. Nicole feels it against her cheek. “Say that again,” Waverly mutters, breath hot against Nicole neck.

“I love you.”

“Again,” Waverly instructs, pulling back just enough to look into Nicole’s eyes.

Nicole doesn’t blink. “I love you.”

Waverly kisses her, soft and sweet and in a way that makes Nicole’s lips tingle after so long. When she pulls away, she rests her forehead against Nicole’s chin.

“Are you still mad at me?” Nicole asks cautiously. She purses her lips against Waverly’s forehead.

Waverly pulls back. She runs a finger across Nicole’s cheek, down her jawline to her chin, then to her bottom lip. “Girlfriends fight,” she says. “It’s… it’s okay. It’s… it’s, uh, it’s normal.”

Nicole snorts. “It’s kind of the worst.”

“It’s  _ totally _ the worst, yeah.” Waverly grins and replaces her fingers with her mouth, kissing Nicole a little harder this time.

“But we’re still girlfriends?” Nicole asks. Her heart beats wildly in her chest, holding her breath as she waits for an answer.

Waverly smiles softly. “Yes. We’re still girlfriends.”

“And you love me?”

Waverly’s mouth brushes against hers. “And I love you.”

Nicole leans in, forcing Waverly back against the passenger door as she kisses her. Her hands slide around Waverly’s waist and Nicole can’t get enough. Four months has felt like a lifetime, stretched out across an eternity. She greedily kisses Waverly, barely pausing between breaths. She can feel Waverly’s hands on her shoulders, slipping under her flannel, and then up into her hair, holding her close.

“Wait,” Waverly breathes into her mouth.

Nicole slides back quickly, her head spinning a little.  _ Waverly takes it back _ , is her first thought.  _ Waverly isn’t taking her back _ .

Waverly takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. Nicole gets distracted for a second, her eyes following Waverly’s collarbone.

She remembers the necklace in her pocket. 

“We need to make a deal,” Waverly says. She moves her hand between them. “This can’t happen again. You can’t be listening to…  _ God _ ,” she laughs. “Were you listening to  _ Nazareth _ ?”

Nicole ducks her head, embarrassed. 

Waverly laughs again and leans in, pressing her forehead to Nicole’s shoulder. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I am not,” Nicole protests weakly.

Waverly looks up, her eyes sparkling in the streetlight. “Gus told me this morning that you came in a few weeks ago and someone played ‘Waiting For A Girl Like You’ and you unplugged the jukebox.”

“It was  _ sparking _ ,” Nicole insists, repeating what she had told Gus.

“You turned it back on and played “Love on the Rocks.”

Nicole narrows her eyes. “I like Neil Diamond.”

Waverly snorts and claps her hand over mouth. Nicole shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Oh, no, baby,” Waverly coos, scooting into Nicole’s side. She pulls at Nicole’s arms until they uncross and loop them around her waist. “But it can’t happen again. We have to promise we’re going to talk about things. Got it?”

Nicole nods quickly. “I swear.”

Waverly walks her fingertips up to Nicole’s shoulder. “If we’re doing this for the next four years-”

“Three and a half,” Nicole correctly breathless.

Waverly’s lips twitch. “Three and a half years,” she corrects. “Then we have to be better.”

Nicole nods slowly, her eyes flickering down to Waverly’s lips. “I promise. Legit,” she adds when Waverly frowns softly. “Do you?”

“I promise,” Waverly whispers.

Nicole leans away, shoving her hand into her pocket. Her fingers slip on the chain but she manages to hook the necklace and pull it out slowly, wincing when the gem catches on the inner seam of her pocket. She holds it up between them, the sapphire spinning.

“I forgot to wrap it. Noob move,” Nicole mutters.

Waverly’s hand covers her. “This is for me?”

“It’s a sapphire, for-”

“My birthday,” Waverly whispers.

Nicole nods. “I know it’s nothing fancy, but I saw it at that jewelry store in Alberta when I drove with Gus to pick up the new hood for the kitchen.”

Waverly sweeps her hair to one side and bends her neck slightly. “Put it on me?”

Nicole’s hands shake as she undoes the clasp, trying to rehook it once she’s looped the chain around Waverly’s neck. She gets it on the second try. The sapphire settles against Waverly’s sweater.

“I love it,” Waverly breathes out. She looks up at Nicole. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Nicole whispers. She leans in, her eyes fluttering closed.

Something hits the windshield and Nicole ducks, pinning Waverly down against the leather seat beneath her.

Nicole looks past the exploded snowball on her windshield. Wynonna is on the sidewalk, her hands on her hips, glaring.

“Can you two stop ruining  _ everything _ for me for one goddamn minute?” she shouts. “Gus wants to do presents.”

Waverly laughs into Nicole’s neck as she pushes her up and slips out from beneath her. She adjusts her sweater and Nicole's eyes follow her hands. 

Nicole leans back in, kissing Waverly hard. She can hear Wynonna shouting again, hears the sound of a snowball hitting the car, and she ignores it. Instead, she focuses on Waverly's mouth against hers, on the soft sound of Waverly breathing in, and the way her hands fit perfectly around Waverly's waist. 

Right before she gets out of the car, following Waverly back into The Patch, she pushes the eject button on her cassette player, slips the “Death of Love” mixtape into her backpack, and promises she's going to throw it out in the first trashcan she finds.    
  


-

Nicole slides the sleeve of her uniform shirt back. She fumbles with the small button on the side of her watch but eventually applies enough pressure so that the display lights up an eerie, faint green color. She grins and grabs for her radio, depressing the talk button.

“Hey, Linda?”

“Go ‘head, Haught.”

Nicole maneuvers her car the last few feet along the curb outside of Cal’s with one hand. She idles there with her foot on the break. “I’m going out of service. Half hour, tops.” She starts fishing coins out of her ash tray while she waits.

Her radio crackles. “Copy that, Haught. Say hey for us.”

“10-4,” she parrots into the radio, hanging it back on the receiver. 

She finds enough coins for the call and then some, pulling on her uniform jacket to ward off the cool April night air. The breeze licks at her ears as she jogs from her cruiser to the phone booth. She slams the folding door shut behind her and blows on her fingers to try and warm them up as she loads the coin slot.

“Hey, baby,” she hears in her ear.

She snorts. “What if someone else was calling?”

Waverly huffs. “Nicole Ma-”

“Okay, okay,” Nicole interrupts. “Hi, baby.”

“Hey.” Waverly’s voice is soft. “How was your day?”

Nicole sighs, kicking a foot back until it presses flat against the wall of the booth. “Someone tried to steal the chicken statue from outside of the Farm Boy.” Nicole snorts, rubbing at the back of her neck. “But he didn’t realize that it’s bolted to the ground.”

Waverly is quiet for a moment. “It is?” she asks, her voice high and questioning.

“I know!” Nicole shakes her head. “Apparently, someone tried to steal it back in ‘87? So Chuck Todd bolted it to the sidewalk in case anyone tried to steal it again? And wouldn’t you know it, when Carl Junger tried to load that giant chicken into his truck, he couldn’t move it an inch.”

Waverly is laughing on the other end of the line. Nicole grins widely, holding the phone tightly to her ear, soaking in the sound.

“You’re kidding,” Waverly finally manages to say.

Nicole shakes her head furiously. “I’m not. When Grange and I showed up, Carl was still trying to lift the thing.”

Waverly laughs again. Nicole closes her eyes and pictures Waverly on the other end, laying back on her dorm bed, the phone cord stretched from the desk to the corner she’s probably burrowed in. She opens her eyes when a sharp breeze cuts into the booth and wraps around her ankles.

“What’re you doing?” she asks, pushing her free hand further into her pocket.

Waverly hums noncommittally. “Some reading. The women’s suffrage movement. Tell me about your day.”

Nicole sighs and leans back against the booth. “Grange and Levin put boots on the back wheels of my car.”

Waverly groans. “They’re  _ still _ giving you a hard time?”

“It’s just ‘cause I’m a rookie,” Nicole defends. “They’ll settle down eventually.”

Waverly grunts in disbelief. “Why two boots? Wouldn’t one be fine?”

“That’s exactly why they used two,” Nicole sighs. She rests her free hand on her duty belt. “But I replaced all the sugar in the break room with salt, so I think I win this round.”

Waverly groans on the other end of the line and Nicole smirks proudly.  _ “That’s _ why they’re still giving you a hard time, Nicole.”

“I know, baby. But if I’m not going to let Wynonna push me around, I’m definitely not letting  _ Grange and Levin _ do it.”

Waverly sighs heavily in her ear. “You’re  _ ridicu _ -” She stops talking and Nicole frowns, listening hard to pick up the noise on the other end of the line. “Yeah, okay. Have a good night,” Waverly says to someone. “Sorry,” she continues, her voice loud in Nicole’s ear as she speaks into the receiver. “Eliza is going to the library.”

“You aren’t going?”

“No,” Waverly says. “Hold on.” There’s the sound of something rustling and Nicole waits patiently, picturing Waverly throwing back the covers of her bed and sliding under them. 

She’s heard that sound a hundred times, late at night when Nicole would hide in the pantry at her house and dial Waverly’s house with shaking hands. She used to call all the time after Curtis died, just to make sure Waverly was okay and Wynonna wasn’t doing anything stupid. It stopped, in high school, when Waverly started needing an extra hour in the morning to get ready for school. It’s still familiar now.

“Comfy?” she asks.

“ _ Finally _ ,” Waverly breathes out. “Those leggings were starting to itch.”

Nicole feels her mouth dry instantly. “Oh, you’re, uh…”

Waverly laughs softly over the line. “You bet, baby.”

Nicole’s fingers grip her duty belt. “That’s… That’s  _ clutch _ .”

“Do you know what I  _ am _ wearing?” Waverly asks, her voice low.

Nicole swallows heavily. Her hand slips off her duty belt.

“Your flannel,” Waverly continues.

There’s a warmth in Nicole’s chest that breaks like a bubble and spreads slowly through her chest and into her arms and the ends of her toes. “Yeah?” she asks softly.

“I haven’t taken it off,” Waverly says just as quietly.

“Waves, it’s been  _ months _ .”

“I  _ washed _ it, you airhead.” Waverly says.

Nicole rubs at the back of her neck absently. “You like it, huh?”

“It’s like your arms are always around me,” Waverly whispers. “Even when you’re so far away.”

Nicole feels a whimper build in her throat.

She thinks back to Christmas dinner at The Patch. They had followed Wynonna inside eventually, Waverly tucked under Nicole’s arm. Her face stung from the cold, from lingering on the sidewalk and kissing Waverly under the fuzzy Christmas lights glittering against the glass and snow. Wynonna gagged until Gus cuffed her across the back of the head and told her to get the small stack of presents from next to the jukebox.

Waverly played with her necklace the whole time, pressed into Nicole’s side as they swapped gifts, her fingers running up and down the chain and across the face of the sapphire. Nicole offered to drive Waverly home and they took the long way, winding through Purgatory slowly, trading kisses at stop signs.

Nicole fished through her glove compartment until she found the Journey cassette she was looking for. She slid “Frontiers” into the tape deck and let Waverly play with the buttons on her flannel as they burned through her gas tank, singing along softly to “Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)” and “Send Her My Love."

For the first time in two months, Nicole let Side A play all the way through, instead of turning it to Side B before “Faithfully” came on.

When they pulled into the driveway at the McCready house, the living room lights were blazing and Nicole could see Wynonna’s shadow in her room. Waverly had pulled her around by the chin, nosing into a kiss. Nicole’s hands had slid around Waverly’s waist, trying to pull her closer, trying to eliminate all of the distance she had put between them these past few weeks. They had stayed there, slowly kissing, until Nicole’s elbow slipped and hit the horn, cutting through fog. Waverly had laughed into her neck as Nicole’s heart rate steadied. 

“I want this,” Waverly murmured, her fingers slipping under the collar of Nicole’s flannel. She peeled it down her arms until it pooled on the bench seat behind Nicole. “Is this the same one you-”

“Yes,” Nicole breathed out. 

Waverly’s cheeks flushed pink. “So you thought I broke up with you and you wore our first-date-flannel to Christmas dinner anyway?” She laughed again, pressing soothing kisses to Nicole’s cheek and chin. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“I didn’t even realize it,” Nicole defended weakly.

Waverly scoffed and kissed her like she didn’t believe her, and when she glided back against the passenger seat, Nicole’s flannel was in her hands. Slowly, her eyes locked on Nicole, she pulled her sweater up and over her head, dropping it to the floorboard. 

Nicole felt her stomach somersault and her eyes darted back towards the house.

Waverly slid one arm into the flannel, and then the other, buttoning it from the top down. The arms flopped down over her hands until she rolled each sleeve back haphazardly.

Nicole had laughed, pulling at Waverly’s wrist and placing it in her lap. “Let me,” she mumbled. She slowly and carefully rolled each sleeve back, folding in inch-long sections until the cuffs rested just below Waverly’s elbows, looser on her arms than Nicole’s.

Waverly grinned, twisting her shoulder and throwing her hair back. “How do I look?” she had asked.

Nicole had opened her mouth to say something but nothing would come out. 

Ten minutes later, Waverly had slid out of the car, her sweater hanging loosely from her hand and Nicole’s flannel tied in a knot at her waist, the first few buttons undone and showing her collarbone. Nicole sat in the driveway until Waverly slipped inside the front door, blowing Nicole a kiss.

“I’m never getting it back, am I?” Nicole asks.

Waverly snorts into the phone. “Not a chance, baby.”

“ _ Excuse me _ ,” a recorded voice interrupts. “ _ Your time is up _ .”

Nicole fishes the extra change out of her pocket.

_ “Please deposit five cents if you wish to continue, or your call will be disconnected. Thank you.” _

She drops in the coin and sighs. “I remembered this time.” 

Waverly laughs at her and then launches into a story about Eliza and the boy down the hall, Earl, who keeps trying to ask Eliza out on a date. Waverly tells her about the library and Mrs. Lippencott who scowls at everyone except for Mr. Bradley, the other librarian; about the quad and the boys who play football and the girls in their sunglasses on their towels with their radios playing Mariah Carey and Madonna; about the small campus store where the girl behind the counter has knotted hair and is always wearing the same Nirvana t-shirt.

Nicole checks her Casio and sighs. “Baby,” she says quietly, interrupting Waverly’s story about a guy in the dining hall who hogs the best table by the window and plays Billy Ray Cyrus songs all through dinner.

Waverly pauses. “You have to go?”

“Yeah,” she groans. “It’s been forty-five minutes.”

Waverly sighs heavily in her ear. “Okay. If you have to.”

“You know I wish I didn’t.” She rests her hand on the terminal and presses her forehead to the cool metal. “I love you.”

“Nicole,” Waverly warns.

Nicole sighs. “Waves, you don’t have to.”

Waverly huffs loudly in her ear. Nicole’s eyes flutter closed; she pictures Waverly sitting in her bed, one hand on her hip, frowning.

“Fine,” Nicole drags out. She glances around, peering through the frosted and scratched glass of the phone booth. The parking lot and the streets are empty and only Cal is inside the store, sweeping aisles. “Go ahead.”

Waverly snorts softly, her noise immediately swallowed up by her voice as she starts singing. “ _ Highway run into the midnight run, wheels go round and round, you’re on my mind _ .”

Nicole feels her chest start to swell. Her cheeks burn a little as they turn red, but she holds the phone closer to her ear.

_ “Restless hearts sleep alone tonight. I’m sending all my love along the wire _ .”

Nicole twists the cord of the payphone around her finger, sliding her thumb and up and down the wire like she can feel the words traveling through them.

_ “They say that the road ain’t no place to start a family,”  _ Waverly continues.  _ “Right down the line it’s been you and me.” _

There’s always a moment, when Waverly sings her this song, that brings Nicole back to Shorty’s; to the shadowy corner of the skating rink where Waverly knocked their skates together, laced her fingers through Nicole’s beltloops and lifted up on the front of her skate to kiss Nicole softly.

_ “Oh, girl, you stand by me _ .  _ I’m forever yours, _ ” Waverly sings softly.

“Faithfully,” Nicole finishes, her voice hoarse.

Waverly is quiet for a long moment before she speaks. “I’m your girl, Nicole Haught.”

“Aces,” Nicole says, the word breaking in her mouth.

Waverly huffs into the phone. “ _ Nicole _ .”

Nicole bites down on her bottom lip. “I’m your girl too, Waverly Earp.”

“Clutch,” Waverly breathes back.


End file.
